“It has been the best summer I ever had,” Nancy cried, as she shook hands with them all, and kissed the girls and Aunty too. “You’ve been so good to me, and given me such a happy time, that I just can’t thank you.”
“We’ve got the Junior Cup up on the parlor mantel,” added Tom proudly, “right under mother’s framed marriage certificate, and father’s model of his first schooner. And Nancy sticks a bouquet of fresh posies in it every morning, girls.”
Nancy blushed radiantly, and kissed Polly a second time.
“Sometimes I wonder if you let me win,” she whispered. “You held up a little I thought, there at the very last.”
“Did I?” laughed Polly. “It was because I was so glad and surprised when I saw the old _Pirate_ nosing her way past me, that was all. Goodbye, dear. Don’t forget us.”
“Fair wind and tide to you wherever you sail, mates,” the Captain called; and there were tears in the girls’ eyes as they watched the last view of the little shore cottage, and the two figures there at the garden gate, the Captain with the wind blowing back his curly hair, as sturdy, as tall, and as storm-proof as one of the pines up on Bald Mountain.
“Girls, it’s been the happiest summer I’ve ever had,” cried Ruth as she put her head on Polly’s shoulder, and wept.
“Cheer up,” she said. “It won’t be the last. Turn around, like a good fellow, and wave a salute back at the old flag pole, and to Nancy, bless her.”
So they all stood up in the old carry-all at that last turn in the old shore road, and solemnly, hopefully, lovingly saluted the last glimpse of Lost Island, and the winner of the Junior Cup.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Polly Page Yacht Club, by Izola L. Forrester